


MisCOMMunication

by wecara



Series: Langst Prompts [3]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Communication Failure, Gen, Hurt Lance (Voltron), Langst, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-03
Updated: 2018-08-03
Packaged: 2019-06-21 05:14:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,141
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15550407
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wecara/pseuds/wecara
Summary: While on a simple mission to blow up a Galra cargo base, Lance gets captured with no way to communicate with his team. But his line isn't silent, far from it, in fact. For the rest of the team, Lance is just being his annoying, chatty self.Part 3 of my Langst Prompts Series.





	MisCOMMunication

**Author's Note:**

> please be merciful I wrote this instead of sleeping last night

“Lance, stay alert,” Shiro orders through the comms. He doesn’t like being away from the rest of his team, Black hovering above the Galra cargo base beside the Red Lion. He and Keith are charged with keeping watch and protecting the parts of the base where the rest of the team are currently working, along with offering a quick escape if they don’t have time to get out and to their own lions in time. Usually he’s down there with them, his Galra arm being used to get past security, but Pidge and Hunk designed a chip that can just be tapped against the sensor and sends it haywire, letting them in but locking anyone without a chip out. 

It’s pretty genius, actually, and with a few modifications they’d managed to weave the chip’s properties into the fingertips of the Paladins’ suits so they can just tap the displays and not have to worry about sentries following them during infiltration missions.

So Shiro remains where he’s needed, giving orders and being the heaviest artillery along with Red against any potential threats from deep space. 

“Aw, come on guys, relax! I’ve  _ totally  _ got this in the bag. I’m almost here,” Lance says into his comm in response. His long legs carry him quickly through the maze of hallways, his bayard raised and ready for the first sign of danger. He’s been given the lousy task of scanning the lower layers of the cargo base that are mysteriously unmapped for Pidge’s use in finding the power supplies that would blow the whole asteroid base in half. The goal is simple. This base is one of the main suppliers of quintessence to a string of planets that Voltron is planning to liberate as soon as possible. All they need to do is blow up the base, which will cut off the power supply for the Galra bases on those planets, which will allow them to be quickly picked off by Voltron, and then Allura can go down and smile and wave with her Altean diplomacy skills and  _ boom;  _ a new set of powerful allies on their side. 

At first, Lance was pretty offended that he’d been given such a boring chore while Pidge and Hunk got to roll with the Blades of Marmora, complaining about being reduced to a human GPS before being sent along his way. His two teammates are currently with a pack of about six other members of the Blades, having already taken out the sentries at the control room and preparing for Lance to finish sprinting through the vast, unmapped underbelly of the base with his scanner. It was supposed to be quick, all he had to do was run in the general direction that one of the Blades had suggested the power supplies would be, but Lance is running into a bit of a problem in that the power supplies aren’t  _ here.  _

He just can’t find them. The dude from the Blades seemed pretty certain that if he just followed a set of corridors towards the center of the base, veering slightly north, that he would inevitably find the glowing purple room in just a few ticks. But now it’s been almost fifteen dobashes and Lance still hasn’t gotten the word from Pidge that he’s found it yet. 

Why couldn’t the Galra have just mapped this stupid place like they did with everywhere else?! It had been  _ so  _ convenient that all they had to do to find their way through most Galra ships was have Pidge do a funky hacking thing that pulled up a full 3D map of the ship and all its glorious weaknesses. Why does this base have to be any different?!

“Any news, Pidge?” Shiro’s voice crackles through the comms, and Lance can tell that he’s getting antsy. They all are, and Lance hates being the slowpoke that’s dragging them all down. He was given the most  _ simple job  _ and he still hasn’t completed it. 

“Nothing yet, keep going Lance. You’ve almost mapped half the bottom level. You’ve gotta hit it  _ sometime  _ soon,” she says exasperatedly, and Lance would make a glass-half-full joke if he wasn’t so winded. That’s the other reason he was chosen for this job, he has long legs and has proven himself to be the fastest runner thanks to his time on the track and swim teams back at the Garrison. He has excellent stamina, so running for fifteen minutes should be no problem, but he’s been full on  _ sprinting  _ at almost his fastest pace, not wanting to slow down just in case this next turn is  _ the one.  _

He settles instead to ignore them and just keep running. After his last message of affirmation through the comms, he’d switched them to mute so he doesn’t have to worry about the embarrassing huff and puff of his labored breaths. Though, he knows that the helmets also have audio recorders so any and all information can be scanned during debriefing, and they’re no doubt picking up every last wheeze he lets out. 

“Wait, Lance, I think you’re getting close! Keep going!” Pidge cries excitedly, no doubt seeing something in the corner of her screen’s copy of the scans. Lance groans in relief, picking up the pace. The next turn is a one-way, right, so he won’t have to worry about which way to go like he has at several other intersections. In his exhausted relief, he doesn’t even hear the sentries until he’s collided with them, helmet-first. 

He lets out a surprised yelp as he falls back, and something comes in hard contact with the side of his head, making a metallic  _ crunch  _ noise. 

“State your identification and business,” drones a sentry at the same time that Pidge lets out a triumphant squeal.

“We got it, Lance! We got it!” she cries as Lance tries to pick himself up from off the ground where his helmet has hit one of the  _ stupid  _ triangular Galran decorations along the wall. An experimental touch to the side of his head confirms that  _ yep, there’s a dent.  _

_ “Aw, come on,” _ Lance’s voice says through his comms, but Lance isn’t saying it. He freezes, noting the inflection of his voice. It sounds exactly like the last thing he said to Shiro, why would it—?

“Everything alright down there buddy?” Hunk’s concerned voice fills Lance’s ears as the sentries before him repeat their previous command.

“State your identification and business, warning two out of three.”

“Hunk? I ran into some sentries, can you—” Lance tries to say, but he’s cut off by himself.

_ “Relax!”  _ Lance’s voice says, once again repeating a portion of the last thing he said before he muted his comms. 

“Quiznak,” he mutters, pulling himself to standing and quickly shooting the sentries in the chest with his bayard just as they’re raising their own weapons. “Hunk? Shiro? Anyone? Can anyone hear me?” He tries after unmuting the comms. 

“Oh, okay, sorry, you just sounded like you ran into trouble,” Hunk apologized, and Lance allows himself to swell with relief for about half a tick before he realizes that his best friend was responding to the recording’s easy ‘ _ relax.’  _

“ _ Got this in the bag,”  _ the recording says, and Lance hears Keith make an annoyed sound in the back of his throat. 

“Damn it! Guys, that isn’t—can anyone  _ actually  _ hear me?” he growls desperately, but the bash to his helmet must’ve done something to his comms, because they aren’t responding to any of his commands.

“What—? Grab him!” A gruff voice sounds from further down the hall, and Lance whips his head up just in time to see a commanding officer surrounded by about a dozen sentries. Lance curses under his breath and starts taking out the sentries charging for him, keeping a keen ear out for his team. Hopefully soon his recording will say something at an inappropriate time and they’ll connect the dots. Until then, however, he’s on his own. 

He manages to hit the first three sentries, but the others are quick to follow, blasting at him with their guns in such rapid succession that the purple rays fill the air around Lance like a meteor shower. One blast lands square on his chest and he goes flying backwards into the wall behind him. The sentries take advantage of the opportunity to kick his bayard away from him and grab at his arms. 

Lance growls and starts kicking, aiming for the weak spots in the sentry armor that they’ve studied during training.  _ Hit the exposed wire, aim for the light in the chest, knock out their power sources.  _ Just then, Keith’s irritable voice crackles through Lance’s broken comms.

“Could you pick up the pace, Lance? We’re all waiting on you.” he sounds impatient and a little nervous.  _ God,  _ Lance hopes there aren’t any battle cruisers on their way. He wrenches his arm free of a sentry that was caught off guard by a particularly sharp kick to its glowing robotic heart, but another one replaces it just as quickly. 

“Come on, recorded Lance, say something dumb!” he urges the recording, but it is infuriatingly fickle to his desires. 

“Lance, where are you? Are you almost up?” Shiro asks in the silence after Keith’s question. “If you’re just ignoring Keith because he’s Keith—”

“ _ Totally,”  _ says Lance’s recording. 

“Are you fucking kidding me?!” Lance cries. “You’re making me sound like a total  _ douche canoe.  _ And that’s not helping us escape!”

“Well well well, what have we here? A Paladin of Voltron?” the commanding officer steps up closer to Lance, whose legs have now been secured painfully by the sentries, leaving absolutely  _ zero  _ wiggle room. So much for hitting their weak spots. 

“Where are the others?” the officer asks, peering at him closely but not close enough that Lance could kick him, even if his limbs were free. Lance smirks at this. The officer is short, with ears too big for his fat, purple face and a triangular nose that’s just a little too sharp for the softness of his chubby cheeks. He looks like he’s been made out of magazine cutouts, or maybe like a Picasso painting. Each feature is just a little bit  _ off.  _ And he obviously fears Lance enough to steer clear of him, even while completely restrained. Getting to this guy will be easy as pie. 

“I’m not telling you  _ shit.  _ If you let me go now I’ll perhaps consider sparing you from my sweet martial arts skills once I inevitably do escape.” Lance says with a cocky smirk, and the officer takes a microscopic step back. 

“Nice try, Paladin. You’re completely restrained. There’s no way you could escape.” He sounds like he’s just as much trying to convince himself as Lance. 

“Oh, did you not see the way I took out that little sentry down there with just a well-placed kick? I know  _ all  _ the weak spots to exploit. I’m gonna be out of these bonds before you can blink your piss-colored eyes.” At this, the dumpy officer takes a visible step back, fear flitting across his ugly face. Lance’s smirk grows into a grin, but his victory is short lived as the officer’s face grows dark. 

“Fine, I’ll just get you some  _ real  _ bonds. This way,” he barks. 

Uh oh. Lance can do the intimidation game, he can take out a handful of sentries in hand-to-hand if his hands are actually  _ free,  _ but if he’s actually cuffed—well, he’ll ask Shiro to add some sort of training against this the second he escapes.

If he escapes. 

The sentries carry him down the hall behind the officer as Lance’s mind races, searching for some sort of solution to get out of this mess. 

  
  


“What’s taking him so long?!” Keith growls. Pidge and Hunk have all the preparations ready, all they need to do is make sure Lance is present so they can push the button to begin the countdown for the power source’s explosion, leaving them just enough time to get to their lions and fly away in an epic escape, the debris of the base at their backs. 

“Guys, relax! I’ve—in the bag!” Lance said through the comms for the umpteenth time. 

“Yeah, we  _ know,  _ Lance. Just hurry.” Pidge says irritably. 

“Wait, Lance, what was that? You cut out for a second.” Shiro says, something about this not sitting with him right. Lance is far more creative with his words than to say the same thing over and over.

“I’ve  _ totally  _ got this in the bag!” Lance said again, and Shiro sighed. Apparently not. 

“Is this the part of the mission where I mute Lance? For the sake of my own sanity?” Keith growls.

“Aw, come on!” Lance whines, but Keith cuts him out of his audio with a satisfying  _ click _ . Shiro sighs. He doesn’t like it, but sometimes Lance’s banter can get to be a bit much for the other Paladins, especially for Keith. He and Pidge, and even Hunk sometimes, have taken to muting him during certain missions in order to maintain focus and yes—sometimes their own sanity as well. Shiro always makes sure he has an ear out for everyone, though, he wouldn’t be able to forgive himself if something happened to one of his teammates but it went unnoticed because Shiro muted them. Besides, it’s an irresponsible thing to do as a leader. He always needs to be aware of  _ everyone  _ on his team. 

Even if it does drive him crazy sometimes. 

  
  


Well, at least Shiro seems to be catching on, Lance thinks grimly as he’s handcuffed to a loop on the wall. He tried to make a last-ditch effort at escape, kicking and flailing the moment a sentry loosened its hold on him to put the cuffs on, and he even managed to take one out—earning him an extremely dignified shriek from the commanding officer—before he was restrained for good. Now he’s left with his arms twisted painfully behind his back and the commanding officer leering at him an unnecessarily safe distance away. 

The room is large, Lance is secured to one of three of its solid walls. The fourth is made entirely of windows that curve down underneath the floor, which Lance now recognizes as more of a platform jutting out from the base. It appears to be a sort of observation deck from the underside of the asteroid, Lance notes as he takes in the sprawling expanse of the universe before him. 

“So, Blue Paladin, if you’re here then no doubt the rest of your crew is too. Just tell me where they are, and there will be no fuss.” the officer paces back and forth in what is probably supposed to be an intimidating manner, but his legs are too short and his stomach too big so he instead only succeeds in looking like a waddling penguin, tilting from side to side with each step. Lance suppresses a giggle. 

The officer raises an eyebrow, but once again only makes himself look ridiculous. “Not talking? Fine, we’ll  _ make  _ you talk.”

Oh shit, that doesn’t sound good. 

A sentry raises its gun at Lance, and he tries his best to keep his chin raised high. _ Show no fear. Show no weakness. Show no fear. Show no weakness.  _

A purple blast hits his chest, and he screams. 

  
  


“Lance, we need to get going. Are you close?” Shiro asks. They’ve been blessed with an empty sky so far, free of any Galra cruisers or cargo ships, but that isn’t going to last. If this plan is going to work, they need to get out fast. 

“I’m almost here,” Lance says, and Shiro lets out a sigh of relief. Pidge and Hunk have since muted Lance and his constant affirmations of ‘ _ I’ve got this,’  _ leaving Shiro to communicate with him alone. 

“Okay, good. We urgently need to leave. Do you think you’re close enough to get to your lion in the allotted ten dobashes? Pidge and Hunk need to press that button before the system locks them out again.”

“Totally,” Lance responds, and Shiro smiles. 

“Great news, guys. Lance is on his way to his Lion. You’re free to get out of there.” 

“Finally!” Hunk cries the anxiety of just  _ waiting  _ in the control room had been seriously hurting his insides, he was ready to barf but now he feels on top of the world because Lance is safe and everything is falling into place perfectly. Mission accomplished. Pidge just cackles.

“Time to blow some shit up,” she says, then winces as Shiro scolds her for the curse word. Oh, well. If Shiro’s scolding is the worst thing that happens today, she’d call it a win.

“Yes, yes, yes,  _ yes! _ ” she says excitedly, then presses the button with nothing but pure glee in her heart.

  
  


“No, no, no  _ no! _ ” Lance cries desperately. They’re leaving, Pidge has already pressed the button, this ship is going to blow up with him on it and his team is gonna be none the wiser. 

“Still stubbornly refusing to give me the information I want?” the commanding officer sneers, and the sentry raises its gun at Lance’s chest once more. The bullets are more like intense tasers than anything, which makes him wonder if the guns have different settings for different intensities, because  _ obviously  _ these shots aren’t being made to kill. 

“No, wait you don’t—” Lance is cut short by another guttural scream tearing past his lips as a stream of glowing purple darts hit his chest. By the time the onslaught is over he’s heaving, his face dripping with sweat. “You don’t  _ get  _ it, this… this base is about to b-blow up,” Lance hopes that sharing his team’s plans aren’t going to jeopardize them now that Pidge has already pressed the button and they are on the clock. It looks like it’s his only hope of getting out of here alive. 

“Blow up? And why should I believe that?” the officer smirks. Lance groans, and whether it’s from pain or exasperation is anyone’s guess.

“J-just check your control room,” Lance spits, and he tastes a little bit of blood in the back of his throat. Whatever is in these galran bullets is obviously doing more than just electrocute him. The officer seems to consider this for just a split second before his face grows dark with rage.

“You’re just trying to get me to leave so you can escape!” he accuses, and Lance feels his heart swell with terror. “Well it’s not gonna work on me, Paladin! I’m far too intelligent to fall for that.” Then he gestures towards the sentry and Lance is back under brutal, merciless attack. 

  
  


“Hey, Lance, I thought you said you were close. Are you at your Lion? Pidge and Hunk are already on their way out.” Shiro asks. 

“Almost,” Lance responds, and while the tone of it sounds a little off, Shiro assumes it’s because he’s fatigued. He can’t expect much in terms of speed from the poor Blue Paladin, he’s been running—full-speed sprinting, no doubt—for the past fifteen dobashes straight. He’s probably exhausted. 

  
  


Lance doesn’t know how much time has passed, the little clock on his visor display is too blurry for his brain, hazy with pain, to process. Once the sentry stops shooting, Lance slumps forwards, ignoring the ache in his shoulders that strain with his body’s weight against the cuffs. The commanding officer says something he can’t hear, his ears are ringing unbearably, and his mouth feels like it’s been stuffed with marshmallows. 

The commanding officer’s voice fades in and out of clarity, and Lance almost chuckles at what might be a slightly concerned tone.  _ Oh, don’t want me to die just yet?  _ He thinks, but he doesn’t have the strength to lift his head and see if it’s true.  _ God,  _ everything just  _ hurts.  _

A loud banging noise sounds from the side of the room, but everything sounds like it’s underwater to Lance. He barely catches the conversation between the sentry that just entered the room and the commanding officer, but he gets the gist.

“Control room… Paladins… trouble” says the sentry.

“...Sure? Ignore… leave him… unconscious” orders the commanding officer. Through Lance’s blurry vision he can see the sentries and the commanding officer run from the room, and Lance realizes with a start that he’s alone.

“Oh, fuuuuuck,” Lance groans, lifting his head. It feels like lead. He blinks a few times, trying to shake the blur and the black spots threatening to invade his vision entirely. The buzz of the Galra taser beams is starting to wear off, the fuzziness of each of Lance’s senses receding until he’s almost back to normal.

Apart from the searing pain in his chest and abdomen.

Oh well, he’ll deal with that when he’s in his Blue Lion, not here where he’s doomed to become blown up space dust. 

Quickly taking stock of the situation, Lance almost cries with relief when he sees the sentry he felled while being handcuffed dropped his weapon. Lance shuffles towards it, unfolding his legs from underneath him and stretching them out as far as they’ll go. Grunting with frustration and pain, he notes that his toes just barely scrape against the gun. If he can just stretch a little bit—

A loud cry of pain tears from his lips as something in his left shoulder pops. Fresh tears spring to his eyes, but he blinks them away, whimpering and gritting his teeth as he forces himself with the added inch that whatever this separation gave him to latch a foot onto the end of the gun.

“Aha!” he says, but it comes out as more of a sob. Being careful to not let the gun slip out from under his foot, he pulls it closer to his body until it’s between his legs. 

Breath after breath, he sucks them in and wills himself not to cry. His arm is on fire, as is his torso, but he’ll be okay. He just needs to align the gun just right. He maneuvers the bulky Galran weapon behind his back so that it’s sitting upright, the barrel pressed against his handcuffs. He folds his right foot underneath him so the toe of his shoe hovers above the trigger and takes a deep breath.

He squeezes his eyes shut and flexes his foot, and the telltale sound of a laser gun sounds. His hands separate, and he looks down at the severed cuffs. The sudden movement to his left shoulder—which he’s sure is dislocated—feels like fire, but he tries his best to ignore it. Lance uses his other hand to lift himself to standing and checks the clock on his visor.

“Shit!” he shouts aloud and stumbles as quickly as he can on his jelly-like legs out of the room and back down the hall. He has less than five dobashes to make it back to his Lion and out of the blast radius. 

If there’s one good thing that came from his encounter with the idiotic commanding officer, it would be the fact that he hadn’t bothered to do anything with Lance’s bayard after he was disarmed. Lance bends to pick up the bulky gun, but his heart drops with disappointment when he realizes that it’s too heavy to wield one-handed. In a flash of light, it goes back to its smaller, less impressive form, and he’s back running down the halls. 

Lance is blessed with a good sense of direction from his mother. As a child he used to watch with amazement from the baby seat of the grocery cart as his mother raced through the aisles, picking items off the shelves with such ferocious speed that it looked random, but they were always the exact things she needed. Mama never forgot a place, so shopping was near automatic for her.

Lance thanks his Mama’s genes not for the first time since being in space as he winds through the seemingly identical corridors, finding certain landmarks that are familiar and get him out of the underbelly maze in record time. He curses himself as he recognizes shortcuts he could have taken in the first place—if he’d have  _ known  _ that all he had to do was take a left instead of going straight just there, he could have cut off a  _ quarter  _ of his running earlier—but makes it out in one piece nonetheless. 

Once back up to the surface level, all he needs is to get back outside in a shaded pocket of the asteroid that is near invisible to the base where his beautiful Blue is waiting. 

As soon as his thoughts wander towards his Lion, he reaches out and allows himself to be swept up in the current of her mental presence, like being carried by a wave to a salty shore. Instinct kicks in from there, he follows her influence like a compass, guiding him closer to where she waits. 

Fortunately he runs into no sentries along the way, they've all either been dismantled by the Blades or have fled to the control room with the commanding officer to see what was up. All along the way, Lance can hear Shiro having ‘conversations’ with the recorded Lance, and it pisses him off at how perfectly his glitchy recording keeps responding. It’s like the recording is some sentient speaking robot that’s out to kill him. There were only like, a dozen words he said in that last comm link! How have they not caught on yet?!

When he finally makes it to Blue’s inviting metal jaws, he only has a dobash and a handful of ticks to get out of there and his body is on fire. His joints are achy from exhaustion after running, his arm is numb from the elbow down but in more agonizing pain than he’s ever felt from the elbow up, even the slightest movement sending sparks of white hot pain shooting from his shoulder, and he doesn’t even want to think about how his abdomen looks. 

He plops into the cockpit seat and puts Blue into autopilot, telling her to just get  _ as far away as possible.  _ She rumbles her affirmation, and as they flee into the stars Lance feels her concern wash over him like waves lapping over a tidepool. He chuckles tiredly.

“Don’t worry, girl. Just had some problems with the comms. But I made it out. Thanks for helping,” he says, tilting his head back and trying not to think about what might have happened if he didn’t make it out in time. If he didn’t have Blue encouraging him and pointing him in the right direction. 

His tranquility is interrupted by Keith’s voice coming to life for the first time since Lance’s recording made Lance sound like a total dick. “ _ Finally, _ ” the Red Paladin says, “I thought you said you were almost there! You barely made it out!” he says, accusation dripping in his voice. Lance sighs, too tired to respond. Besides, his recording will probably fuck it up anyways. 

“ _ Relax!”  _ It says, and yup, that’s the asshole Lance has grown to hate. Stupid recording. Stupid broken commms. Stupid, stupid, stupid—

“Don’t tell us to relax, Lance! We were really worried about you. What took so long?” Hunk’s kind yet reprimanding voice is like the eye of the storm, a calm brightness amidst the darkness and chaos around it. Lance sighs and tries responding just for the heck of it, but he gets no response. The recording, however, is more than happy to fill in. 

“ _ Aw, come on guys, relax! I’ve totally got this in the bag. _ ” It says, and Lance barks out a fake laugh. 

“Come on, man! You almost had the full quote! Try again,” he says bitterly. 

“Wait, what did he just say?” Pidge asks. Lance perks up slightly. Are they finally catching on?

_ “I’ve totally got this in the—Almost there—totally got this—Aw, come on!” _ It stutters, crackling like it’s finally having a hard time. Lance sits forward in his chair, listening more intently. 

“Lance, what are you—?” Keith asks. The recording continues to babble, but the Blue Lion is landing in the Castle Ship’s hangar. He’ll be able to explain it to them soon enough. And hopefully get to a healing pod.  _ God,  _ he could use some good ol’ cryosleep right now. 

Blue’s jaws open, and Lance stumbles out, ripping his helmet off and throwing it angrily at the floor of the hangar. The rest of his team runs in to find him facing away from them, kicking at it and muttering somewhat absentmindedly.

“Stupid, stupid, stupid. Couldn’ta pulled that shit while i was being  _ tasered? _ ”

“Lance, what’s up with you?” Hunk asks, and Lance finally looks up at the team, gathered in front of Blue’s particle barrier. “You were saying crazy stuff and your comms were all choppy—”

“That wasn’t me,” Lance cuts him off, turning fully to let them see his tired, pale face and limp left arm, the way he winces slightly whenever he moves. “Er, well, it  _ was  _ me. The last thing I said through the comms was the words, ‘Aw, come on guys, relax! I’ve  _ totally  _ got this in the bag. I’m almost here,’ and then I ran into some sentries and my helmet got bashed. It fucked up my comms so it was just replaying pieces of the last recorded transmission to you guys since about six or seven dobashes before Pidge told me she had the scans.” He explains. Then he gestures with his uninjured arm to his abdomen and other arm. 

“Anyways, I ran into a commanding officer who was trying to get information about where you guys were. When he heard about what happened, he left me chained up in some observatory, so I had to use a sentry gun to shoot through my handcuffs, but in order to do that I had to dislocate my left shoulder and it’s just—” he takes a deep breath and looks down, suddenly feeling the full weight of his day now that the adrenaline high has finally passed. 

“I barely made it out,” he finally croaks, and the team looks at him, stunned. 

Coran is the first to move, he’s rushing out the door saying “I’m gonna go prep him a healing pod, Allura, can you help him to the infirmary?”

Lance sags gratefully into Allura’s grip as she easily lifts him bridal style into her arms, his injured arm tucked carefully over his body and away from Allura. 

“I apologize that that happened, Lance,” she says, but he can barely hear her.  _ Damn,  _ he is adrenaline crashing hardcore. “We’ll look into what might have caused this immediately. You did very well.”

And on that note, Lance’s consciousness finally slips away, like water through his fingers. 

**Author's Note:**

> You: Hey wecara, I couldn’t help but notice how convenient it is that Lance’s words are repeated in just the right way that it doesn’t alert suspicion unti—
> 
> Me, clapping a hand over your mouth: DO IT FOR THE PLOT!
> 
> If you enjoyed this story please consider supporting me on Ko-fi!  
> https://ko-fi.com/wecara


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